Shine Your Light On Me
by acaelousqueadcentrum
Summary: A collection of Rookie Blue prompts and head-canons from Tumblr. Primarily Gail x Holly. Unrelated unless otherwise noted.
1. Chapter 1

_Prompt:_ Officer Lunchbox + Lightbulb

* * *

Gail had been grumpy ever since you told her you'd be going out of town for a few days next week. There was a conference in Chicago that you hadn't planned on attending, but when a med school friend called and asked you to step in so he could go to his mother-in-law's funeral, you couldn't say no.

But Gail had groaned about it, asking if there wasn't anyone else who could give Eddie's presentation instead. You'd explained to her that you were the most qualified, especially since you'd helped him with some data and the editing of his results into a publishable article. It was kind of your baby too, and no one else had enough background knowledge on the whole thing to be able to respond with any sort of authority during the Q&A session afterward. Honestly, you can't remember why you said no to the presentation originally.

Gail had dropped the topic for the most part after that. Oh, she'd huffed and she'd puffed, but for the past two days she'd been pretty quiet. Grumpy, but quiet.

You can see her now out of the corner of your eye, leaning up against the passenger side of the car, face tilted up toward the cloudy sky, arms folded against her chest. She's a crank. An adorable crank. Your crank. But a crank nonetheless.

You've got to get going, get your boarding pass and get to your gate, but you can't leave without one last taste of her. Her eyes are closed as you press your body against hers, pushing her fully against the door of the car. You start with little teasing nips along the side of her jaw before you settle your mouth over hers and let your tongue trace the outline of her lips, dip into the hot, wet hollow of her mouth. You feel the stubborn hard line of her lips curve into a smile as she meets the hard thrust of your tongue with her own.

The two of you lose yourselves in each other for a few minutes before someone's annoyed honking further up the drop-off lane pulls you back into the moment and you reluctantly pull apart.

"Damn," you whisper into her neck, "I am going to miss that over the next couple of days."

Gail's smiling now, and you hope that whatever funk she got herself into over the past few days has passed now. You'll be home soon enough, after all.

Actually, you realize, she's smirking.

"Oh, I know you will, Lunchbox," she says, her eyes twinkling. "And while you're in sad, stupid old Chicago, hanging out with all your nerd friends, I'll be here, awesome as ever. Just little old me, a bottle of champagne, some new underwear that was way too expensive for how little fabric is actually there to cover up all my best bits…"

Gail trails off, clearly waiting for you to catch up at whatever game she's playing. You wrack your brain trying to think if you two had something planned for this week, something to celebrate. Because what she's describing sounds like your new favorite way to celebrate.

It doesn't take long before your eyes go wide.

"Ahhhh," Gail says, drawing out the word, "I see the light-bulb has finally gone on. Yes, Holly. While you're in Chicago doing whatever it is a google of nerds does when they've been let loose unsupervised in a big city, I'll be here, in your bed, celebrating your birthday. Alone."

"Oh, fuck me," you say.

She gives you a wicked smile, the kind that makes your skin tingle and your panties wet.

"Baby," she leans in and whispers against your neck, "that was kind of the plan."


	2. Chapter 2

_Prompt_: Gail and Holly + First Time

* * *

"So, Officer Peck," Holly said as she kissed her way back up Gail's body, "what do you think?"

Gail drew in a shuddering breath, fighting hard to bring her heaving lungs under control.

"You know—Jesus, Holly," she gasped, "you know what they say about not knowing what you're missing?"

Holly smiles against the sweaty skin of Gail's collarbone, "I do."

"Well now" the blonde said as she reached out with shaky hands to bring Holly's head up to her own, "I know."

Holly laughed and Gail lifted her head to capture the other woman's mouth in slow, lazy kisses.

Softly, Holly trailed dancing fingers down Gail's trembling ribs, her smooth hip, until they reached their intended destination at the blonde's hot, wet center.

She swallowed Gail's gasp as she let her experienced fingers slide into the blonde's still-pulsing core, as her thumb began to move against the heat of Gail's hard clit. Holly laughed as Gail's kisses grew messy and desperate, wide and open-mouthed, losing any sort of form or finesse.

And when Gail's head fell back against the pillow, when she tensed and arched and lost her breath again, Holly followed her down, tracing her warm, wet tongue along the graceful column of Gail's throat, feeling the roaring of her own heart echoed in the thundering blood under Gail's delicate skin.


	3. Chapter 3

_Prompt: _Gail Peck + weapons

* * *

Gail Peck grew up around weapons.

She knew how to strip, clean, assemble, care for and shoot a gun before she was out of primary school. Her dad gave her lessons in self-defense when she started to show an interest in the boys at school. When she started a job as a waitress at a bar downtown the year she turned eighteen, Steve bought her a knife and taught her how to use it.

Weapons have never scared Gail. She's been taught to respect them first and use them second.

What scares Gail is love.

Love is a weapon that her parents never prepared her for. She doesn't know how to defend against it, how to survive it.

Gail knows that when the time comes, love will be her undoing.

Love will destroy her.


	4. Chapter 4

_Head-canon_: Gail Peck and aviator sunglasses

* * *

These sunglasses were the only thing left of Nick in the hotel room after he left her at the altar in Vegas. Gail sat on the floor of the bathroom for hours trying to work up the courage to decide whether to return home and face everybody or just walk out that door and never look back, at anyone or anything. When she finally stood up, determined that she wasn't going to let Nick have the best of her, wasn't going to ever let anyone have any part of her again, was never going to let herself get hurt again, she saw them sitting on the back of the toilet where he had left them. She considered throwing them out, but then didn't. Instead, she put them on to cover up her red, rough eyes.

She wore them to the bar that she spent the rest of the trip at, downing beer after beer until she could no longer remember the shape of Nick's jaw or the scent of the curve where his neck met his shoulder.

She wore them on the plane home, trying desperately to convince herself that the empty seat at her side didn't matter. Trying to figure out what to tell her parents, her brother. Trying to figure out what she was going to do with her life.

She wore them as she walked in for her Police Academy interview, and as she picked up her training gear. She wore them as she ran mile after mile, as she hauled her ass to her classes and to her favorite, secluded study spot.

At some point, Gail wasn't even sure when, the glasses weren't Nick's anymore. At some point, they became hers. She built herself around the those glasses, that heartbreak, all the pangs of sorrow and disappointment and betrayal. To Gail, those lenses were more of a shield than the badge she wore on her chest, the uniform, the gun she carried at her side. They were the distance she needed between the brightness of the world outside and the dark shadows in her heart.

Until Holly, whose love for her was like a sun.

Until Gail realized, for the first time in years, that she actually wanted to feel the warmth on her face, let the brightness in.

Until Holly stood before her one ordinary day and Gail realized that finally, finally, she just wanted to look. Wanted to finally see someone again. Wanted to be seen.

Those sunglasses are still around, in some box in the attic or lost in a closet somewhere. Gail's sure that she saw them when she packed her things and moved finally, officially, into Holly's house. Their home.

She just has no need for sunglasses anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

_Prompt: _Gailly and boat

* * *

In the dream she's in a boat, one gently rocking in a vast expanse of calm water that stretched out as far as she could see. The soft sound of water lapping at the side of the boat soothed her, and she closed her tired eyes, let herself slip deeper and deeper as the hazy light of day faded away into the horizon, into darkness.

And then there was no boat, no light.

Only the water rising, rising, rising. Higher and higher until it covered her shoulders, her neck, her mouth, nose, and eyes.

And the last thing Gail remembered before sliding under the waves completely was the feel of the water in her mouth, in her chest. Breathing it in and out with heavy, liquid lungs.

* * *

When she surfaces, Gail's in the boat again. The water rolls and breaks against the boat this time, choppy waves visible in the distance. Something has disturbed her calm, smooth sea.

But this time she's no longer alone. Holly's with her, sitting right across from her, mouth moving even though there's no sound coming out.

Gail knows she's speaking, trying to say something, trying to get her attention. But she can't make out the words, can't hear past the dull roar in her ears. Still, she knows Holly is with her, she can feel the warm love the other woman's presence always brings. So for a moment, she is content to sit and breathe and watch.

It's when she wants to reach out and touch Holly, feel her love's smooth skin against her own, that she starts to panic. Because she cannot move. She's frozen, trapped in her boat that lurches as the waters begin to twist and swirl, as the light in the sky gets strangely brighter and brighter.

She remembers now, she's looking for something, there's something missing and she needs it, needs to find it desperately. She tries to thrash, tries to wrench free of whatever holds her back, whatever keeps her still and paralyzed in this churning sea.

Whatever she is looking for, whatever she needs to find, Holly will know what to do. So she stops struggling against the powerful waters and stills herself, focusing on the image of the woman before her, the woman she loves. Letting the thought and memory of Holly calm the thoughts raging through her mind.

And slowly, slowly Holly's voice pierces through the roar in her ears.

Louder, and louder.

Until there's nothing but Holly and the light and the water.

Holly and the light.

Holly.

And then in an instant, a bright, blinding, blistering pain that threatens to consume her, to swallow her whole and drag her back again into the relief that the darkness brings.

With a gasping, panicked breath, she wakes.

* * *

"…happened?"

She almost doesn't recognize her own voice. It's quiet, almost a whisper, and more raspy than she ever remembers it being before.

This isn't the first time she's been awake, Gail knows that. She has flashes of seeing Holly's pale, stricken face, of seeing Holly's red and teary eyes. But that's all she can recall. She can't remember what happened, or why she's in a hospital bed, or why there's a dull, throbbing pain in her abdomen even with the morphine she can feel clouding her veins.

The quiet question has startled Holly out of whatever exhausted trance she was in, and she turns her face toward the bed.

"Hey," she whispers, "hey beautiful."

She takes one of Gail's hands in her own, bringing it up to rest against her own cheek.

"How do you feel," she asks.

Gail tries to speak again, but her whole mouth is dry. The most she can manage is a rough sound in the back of her throat. But Holly understands, and reaches for a Styrofoam cup of melting ice chips, rubbing one gently along Gail's lips until the blonde's lips part enough to slip the wet, melting shard inside. The women are quiet for a few minutes as Gail soothes her greedy throat with the bits of ice the other woman feeds her, letting the cold water fill her mouth before swallowing it down.

"Better, any pain? Do I need to call the doctor?" Holly asks, eyes searching Gail's.

But Gail shakes her head, and just repeats her earlier question, scrunching up her face as she tries to remember what happened to land her in the hospital.

"Baby," Holly starts to say, but in an instant Gail's whole body tenses.

She remembers. She remembers everything now.

Everything falls into place and she knows why she feels empty, why she feels like something's missing, why the only thing she can really, truly feel is a burning, throbbing pain in her womb.

She starts to panic. She starts to fight against the sluggish feeling in her limbs. She starts to hyperventilate and suddenly she can't breathe. She can't draw in a breath and her terrified eyes search out Holly's as she tries to force air into her lungs, tries to speak against the lump in her throat.

Holly's hands are on her face, pulling Gail back from her terror.

"Hey," she says to the gasping woman, "hey. Breathe in, just focus on my voice and breathe. In—there we go. Now out. Slowly, Gail. Slow, deep breaths. Listen to my voice, sweetheart. Feel my hands on your face. In. Good. Now out. Good girl."

It takes some time, but eventually Gail can breathe normally again.

"Hol," she asks a quiver in her voice, "Holly, what…"

But her voice trails off, like she's afraid to even say it, to make her worst fears come true.

Hands still cradling Gail's face, grounding her, Holly smiles with watery eyes.

"He's fine, Gail," she says as the tears start to fall, "he's here and he's healthy. He's perfect, you're both absolutely perfect."

Gail knows that there are things Holly's not telling her, she can see the leavings of several days of stress and fear that have made their home on her love's brow. She knows that there are still mountains to climb and recoveries to be made. But she knows too that as much as the tears Holly cries are tears of relief, they're also tears of happiness. She knows, she can feel it in Holly's loving touch, that they're all going to be okay.

* * *

The boat's still there the next time she dreams.

The boat will probably always be there, waiting on the edges of her consciousness, waiting for her to embark on the great journey, to start again from where she left off.

But today she's safe on land, looking out over the vast expanse from her spot on the hot dry sand, with her wife at her side and their son, their tiny, sweet Hugo, asleep in her arms.

She's not going anywhere yet.


	6. Chapter 6

_Prompt_: Holly and makeup

* * *

Life, for all its mystery, is fairly predictable.

It moves on.

Whether you want it to or not.

But sometimes, if you're really lucky, you get to start again.

This time there were no tragedies to bring them together.

This time there was only the passing of days and nights. The familiar pattern of breathing in, and then out. The circle of blood in their veins. The silence. The space.

So maybe you decide to go out for drinks with your friends and see the girl you've been moping over at the other end of the bar, drink in hand. Maybe everything becomes stunningly, startlingly clear. Maybe you finally figure out why everything has felt so terribly wrong lately.

Maybe you decide to take a chance.

And if you excuse yourself from the group and sidle up beside her to say hello, if you signal the bartender for another round while you reach for your wallet. If you sit down next to her and she looks at you and gives you a timid smile and says hello back and looks like she means it.

If she does this and for the first time in weeks you feel your heart settle back into its home in your chest. If she does this and you feel the weight on your chest finally lift, if you can finally breathe—deep and full—again.

If she smiles and your heart beats and you can breathe again, maybe you should smile back. Maybe you should reach for her hand.

Maybe you should take that chance.

Start again.


	7. Chapter 7

_Prompt: _Gail sings "Let's Get It On" to Holly

* * *

_**If You Feel, Like I Feel Baby**_

She's drunk, you know as you watch her mount the stage. Adorably drunk.

She'd begun the evening in quite the pissy mood, all surly and standoffish with everyone, even you a bit, as you'd crowded into a booth at the Penny with her friends. Apparently it had been quite the day of metropolitan policing, full of drunks and fools. She'd had to chase some two-bit dealer eight blocks in the rain—you've heard that story several times already. Each time the estimated number of blocks gets just a bit longer. Last time she grumbled about it, right before Chris dropped off the latest of her drinks, it had been thirteen blocks.

You know how she gets, you understand her. So instead of pointing out all of the good things that had happened today—you'd gotten out of work early, for one—you just pat her knee and let her work the cranky out. You know how she works, how to give in and try to confront her snark would just rile it up all the stronger. You know that what she really just needs is the room to grump a little bit. And you've learned how to give it to her. You can be patient. You know who she loves. You know she knows she's loved.

Now, between the alcohol and the space, she's burned off all her ire and slipped into sweetness, into the adorable, touchy-feely Gail that is your absolute favorite. You love all of her facets, of course, but this one, the one where she runs her fingers through your hair as you sit side-by-side in the booth, the one where she kicks off a shoe and teases at your leg with her toes under the table, the one where she whispers into your ear all the delicious things she wants to do to you when you get home … this one is the Gail you love the most.

This is the Gail who just downed another shot and stepped up to the karaoke machine.

This is the Gail who gives you a wicked grin, the kind of grin you can feel all the way down to the heat between your legs, and saunters up to the mic. Just fucking swaggers up to it.

You know from the first note which song she's chosen, and for a moment you're torn between the hot tug of arousal in the depths of your belly and the little spark of fear at her reaction tomorrow when she wakes up with a horrible hangover and remembers that she did this in front of her friends and colleagues and brother. But then she starts swinging her hips and you don't care.

Come what may.

Bring it on.

Because the woman you love is up on stage singing about getting it on and rolling her hips to the music and you don't care about anything that isn't her, in this moment, in the space between your heartbeat and hers.

Come what fucking may.


	8. Chapter 8

_Prompt_: Gail's dad mug gets broken by a new rookie and Gail is devastated by it and will not stop complaining about how coffee now longer tastes the same. Holly buys her a new mug to replace it (can say whatever you chose)

* * *

It wasn't that someone had broken her mug, not really.

It was that someone had broken her mug and no one was willing to admit to it doing it.

"I don't want to _murder_ the person, Holly," she said with a bit of a growl, "I just want to put the fear of God in them."

"Fear of Gail, do you mean?"

Gail glared over at her girlfriend.

"It wasn't you, was it? Because if it was you that's okay. I'll eventually forgive you. After a sufficient period of mourning for the mug and then maybe a month or three of being my handy-dandy sex slave…" Gail almost looked hopeful at the prospect.

Holly sighed. At least the other woman was starting to look on the bright side of things. She hadn't broken her girlfriend's favorite "Dad" mug, but she had reached the point where she was willing to cop to it just to get Gail to talk about something else for five minutes.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks of complaining about how none of the other mugs in the station were good enough. None of them fit her hand just perfectly, none of them held the heat long enough, some of them held the heat too long.

Two weeks of hearing about how Gail had interrogated a rookie about the mug, accused her brother, Chris, Dov, Nick, Oliver, and Nick again, each of having something to do with her mug's tragic end, or even threatened to take the broken pieces down to the lab so her girlfriend could analyze the evidence.

Holly had laughed at that one, yes, but, frankly speaking, she was getting a little tired of talking about a mug.

Plus, she wouldn't mind the sex slave part. Not really. She'd do what she had to for the cause, you know. The only thing that kept her from just taking the fall for whomever had done it was her pride. Well, her pride and the fact that she was out of town on the, as Gail referred to them, "dates in question."

So, she did the next best thing.

She got Gail a new mug.

And not a replacement mug. (She had heard enough times how you couldn't just "replace" the stupid thing. It was, according to Gail, irreplaceable. Not that Gail could articulate why, of course. But whatever.)

But a mug no one else would dare to use.

Because no one but the stupidest of rookies would be dumb enough to use a mug with Gail Peck's cranky face plastered all over the side.

And if they did?

Or, God forbid, broke it?

Well, then they deserved what they got.


	9. Chapter 9

_Prompt_: "In My Life" by The Beatles

* * *

**_I Love You More_**

_There are places I remember  
__All my life though some have changed  
__Some forever not for better  
__Some have gone and some remain_

You know there's a crowd growing in the hallway, you know your friends and family are milling about, just waiting for an update on her condition. But you can't bring yourself to leave her side, can't force yourself to put down her hand, to stop whispering in her ear.

All you can do is sit here, next to her bed. Your whole world has shrunk down into the space of this woman, into the sound of the machine breathing for her, the steady pattern of her heartbeat on the monitor across from you.

You know there are calls to make and people to inform, you know that at some point you're going to have to step out of this quiet room and into the madness of the world beyond.

Just not yet.

You just can't yet.

Because right now she's breathing and her heart is beating and you're not superstitious at all, not beyond the St. Michael's pendant she gave you to wear over your own heart, but if you left, if you stepped out that door and something happened, if you blinked and she slipped away from you, you'd never forgive yourself.

So instead you'll sit.

And you'll wait.

You'll pray and you'll love.

_All these places have their moments  
__With lovers and friends I still can recall  
__Some are dead and some are living  
__In my life I've loved them all_

It's Nick who breaks your vigil. Who knocks gently at the windowed wall and waits to be invited in. You're glad it's him, of all of them. You're glad because of everyone else back there he knows you the best. He'll know that what you need is not Chris's stammering and apologies, not Dov's well-meaning but terrible questions, not Andy's uncertain sympathy or Chloe's irrepressible optimism.

Nick, though, Nick is steady. Always has been. He's steady and he's strong and when you compare your memories of loving him to how you feel about Holly, you know that all your favorite things about Nick are the things that he and Holly share. Holly, though, she's more. She's always been more. From the very start. She made you feel things that you've never felt with anyone else, not Nick, not Chris. Not the few one night stands you've had over the years. Not even your friends and family have ever made you feel so safe, so loved, so absolutely whole as the woman laying silent in the bed before you.

And you have no idea how you'll be able to exist after her. Without her.

_But of all these friends and lovers  
__There is no one compares with you  
__And these memories lose their meaning  
__When I think of love as something new_

You haven't cried yet, but you can't cry in front of Nick. So you squeeze your eyes shut tight and force the tears away.

"Hey," he says quietly, coming to stand on the other side of Holly's bed.

You can't speak, can't break your own silence. So when he asks how Holly is you just give him a shrug, not willing to look away from her quiet, still face.

"I just wanted," he starts and stops. "I just wanted to let you know that the suspect is in custody. He was hiding in the attic. Rookie got reamed out at the station, they took his badge and gun. Word from Ollie is that he's done, out."

You can see him bounce from foot to foot, almost nervously, as he tells you. As if he's not sure what you're going to do. What, go after the rookie? It doesn't matter. Nothing that's happened matters anymore. Not when the center of your universe has stopped turning, not when the one person who makes your world make sense is flat on her back fighting for her life.

Not when you can still see flecks of her blood under your fingernails.

_Though I know I'll never lose affection  
__For people and things that went before  
__I know I'll often stop and think about them  
__In my life I love you more_

It had happened in an instant, a chain of events faster than you could follow. There was a shot and a shout and a thud, all in one single moment, and then you were running up a flight of stairs in a strange house to the place you last saw her. The room where over a dead body, and with a smile on your face, you settled on plans for dinner later that night.

You ran harder and faster than you've ever run before. You didn't stop for the body running toward you; you didn't think about it, you just trusted that your friends behind you, your fellow officers, would catch him. Instead you only thought of Holly.

Holly and her smile.

Holly and her warm, soft skin in the mornings.

Holly and the way she made your lungs pause and your heart stop.

You're not sure if you'll ever get those images back, if you'll ever think of her and see those things first in your mind. In the space of a single moment everything good was wiped away and replaced with the sight of the woman you love on the ground, dark red blood pooling around her body.

Everything gets blurry after that. You think you radioed for a bus, or maybe it was Andy. You know that you dropped down to your knees and started putting pressure on the wound; you know this because you can still feel the heat of her blood on your hands. A paramedic took over, you think. And then you can remember holding Holly's cold, thin hands in your own, holding her hands and looking at her wide, terrified eyes, and telling her that everything was going to be okay.

You think you promised.

You know you told her how much she was loved.

You just hope she heard you.

_Though I know I'll never lose affection  
__For people and things that went before  
__I know I'll often stop and think about them  
__In my life I love you more_

You're on the verge of giving in to your exhaustion, slowly dozing off to the sound of her mom and your mom chatting quietly on the other side of the room. You've pulled the mildly comfortable hospital chair up as close as you can to the side of the bed, tucked your knees under your body, leaned forward, and lain your head down upon your folded arms right next to Holly's sleeping form. Someone—your mother, maybe—had covered you up with a blanket and you think you'd said thank you. Or thought about it.

You almost miss it, the gentle tugging of your hair. You're sinking, sinking, sinking into sleep and the feel of someone softly scratching at your scalp is too familiar to pull you back into awareness immediately. But then you remember what, and why, and who, and you open your eyes.

Her hand is tangled in your hair, you can feel it now, but her eyes are still closed. And her face, Holly's beautiful, beautiful face, is scrunched up like she's in pain. She's fighting her way back up from under the heavy weight of drugs and pain and trauma, and you just want to soothe away all her hurts and pains and fears.

You lift your head and sit up, wrapping your hand around hers and feel her fingers move against your palm.

"Hey, hey, hey," you say softly as you hear her whimper, "it's okay, Hol, it's okay."

Your mom steps out for a doctor and Holly's makes her way up to stand near the head of the bed, taking her daughter's free hand in her own.

"Holly," you say, and gently push her hair back, letting your thumb massage away the frustrated wrinkle of her brow, "come on, beautiful, time to wake up."

It takes a few more minutes, but she opens her eyes just as the nurse steps in.

"Good girl," you whisper as the nurse squeezes past you.

You barely notice her, or the doctor who comes in soon after.

Instead you just squeeze Holly's hand, and try not to cry when she squeezes back. You watch her face as the doctor fills her in, and smile at the emotions that pass over her tired face. First confusion, then concern, and then absolute incredulity.

"Someone shot me?" she whispers hoarsely, her throat still sore from the breathing tube, "Who bailed you out?"

There's your girl.

There's your love.

_In my life I love you more_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Yes Is Being My Answer**_

* * *

"You're telling me that you've never seen _Love Actually_ before?" Holly asked, not believing what she'd heard.

"As I recall, there is a distinct lack of sharknados, civilization-ending blizzards, or super-sized insects so," Gail said from her place on the couch, "that would be a no."

Holly snorted. Gail's taste in movies was ridiculous. Holly had quickly learned her girlfriend absolutely loved terrible B-style movies. The stupider the premise, the better. No matter how many times she'd explained to the cop the fact that never, in the history of the planet, could forces align to create a tornado made out of sharks, Gail refused to delete the stupid movie from the DVR.

"Well, then," Holly said as she came back into the living room with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn, "that's it. That's what we're watching tonight."

"But _The Day After Tomorrow_ is on, and _Volcano_'s on right after," Gail made a pouty face, "don't you want to watch that instead?"

"I regret telling you about my childhood Gaby Hoffmann crush," Holly answered as she settled onto the couch next to her sulking blonde. "And no, I do not want to watch _Volcano_ again. Or _The Day After Tomorrow._ Or anything where the world or humanity are threatened by some environmental or technological disaster."

"What about-"

"No _Star Wars_," Holly insisted firmly. "We're going to watch _Love Actually._ You're going to snuggle up and we're going to watch something sweet and romantic and beautiful. And you're going to enjoy it. In fact, I bet you're going to love it."

Gail scowled at her, but scooted closer into Holly's warmth anyway.

"I'd take that bet," she said under her breath.

Holly smiled and called up the movie as Gail moved to lay her head down in her lap.

"Deal," she said, gently teasing her hand over the other woman's ribs. "If you don't love it, I'll watch nothing but stupid disaster movies and space operas until even you can't stand them anymore."

Gail snickered confidently around the handful of popcorn in her mouth.

_[Roughly two and a half hours later.]_

"Shut up. I'm not crying, you're crying."


	11. Chapter 11

_Prompt: _Cheiloproclitic - Being attracted to someone's lips.

* * *

Gail came awake with a gasp, the last images of the dream quickly fluttering away as she struggled to control her breathing.

It wasn't the first sex-dream she'd had, not by a long shot.

It wasn't the first time she'd woken, throbbing, her blood pulsing hot and heavy through her veins, her hand trapped under the waistband of her sodden panties.

Gail liked sex, she was good at it. She enjoyed the heat of the act, the sweat and the feel of another body close against her own. She liked the sensation of being stretched, and filled. Liked the way a good orgasm shot out from her center, like bolts of electricity, shocking her nerves all the way to her fingertips, her toes.

And when it had been too long in-between bouts, she was no stranger to taking care of herself. To releasing a little pent-up energy in the shower, or in bed when she was sure the guys were out or already asleep. She had no problem reaching into the bedside drawer for the bottle of lube she kept there, let her fingers do the walking. Or maybe even the vibrator she kept in there for the nights when she needed something more to push her over the edge.

But lately there had been no sex, not since the terrible night that ended her relationship with Nick. (And what sex there was that night definitely could have been better, that's for sure.) And after a string of long days and longer nights on-duty, Gail had been too tired to even think about trading sleep for an orgasm of any kind.

So it's not entirely a surprise that her brain took care of things for her.

She pulled her hand out from her underwear and lay it over her still trembling abdomen. No, it was no surprise that her brain had decided to treat her to what felt like the best orgasm she'd had in a long time.

The surprise had been in the who her unconscious mind had conjured up to tango with.

Most of the dream has disappeared from her consciousness already, but what Gail can remember are soft brown eyes, dark rimmed glasses, and a pair of dusky-rose colored lips.

Those soft, sweet lips had traveled her body with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Had lingered over every spot that curled her toes, every little secret place that Gail had. The patch of skin behind her earlobe, the underside of her breast, her nipples, her belly-button, the soft pillow of flesh right above her center.

Those lips had mapped her body like they were conquering a new world.

Then finally, finally they'd settled into the hot triangle at the apex of Gail's legs. And ever so delicately, they'd taken her clit in-between them, letting a tongue tease ever-so gently at the tip. And there they'd stayed, whispering their desire against her soaked flesh, pulling wants and needs out of Gail that she'd never known she was harboring.

Until, with a gasp, she woke.

She woke with the image of those lips, those eyes, still burned into her memory. Holly's face burned into her memory.

Thinking about it, about the dream, about Holly, Gail could feel the heat begin to grow again, could feel the want and the wet pool deep inside her body.

But she rolled over instead, pushing the desire to start again away.

Holly was her friend, maybe her closest friend. And while it was one thing to dream, it was something else entirely to cross that line deliberately.

One thing was sure though.

Gail certainly had a lot to think about.

Starting with the lips.


	12. Chapter 12

_Prompt: _Apodyopis - The act of mentally undressing someone.

* * *

Holly didn't mean to stare.

She really didn't.

But she couldn't help it.

Gail looked just … delicious tonight. Absolutely delectable in her tight, tight black dress. The one with the low-cut front that just barely covered her flawless breasts. The backless one that put the smooth skin of her back, the sexy line of her muscles, on display for all to see. The dress seemed to caress the blonde's body, hugging every line of her torso, every curve of her hips and ass, coming to an end at mid-thigh.

It wasn't just a dress.

It was pure sex.

So Holly didn't mean to stare, but she couldn't help it.

The dress was her undoing.

Had been her undoing since the first time she'd seen Gail wear it, back when they were dating.

She'd made reservations for the two of them at one of the more up-scale restaurants downtown and picked Gail up from the precinct after her shift was over. Holly couldn't remember what she wore that night. But she remembers that dress.

Remembers seeing Gail walk out of the locker room at the 15 and just glide across the open space, hips swaying sexily as she walked. Remembers feeling her mouth go dry with want and her lungs struggle to take in the next breath. How she felt lightheaded as all her hot blood rushed down, down, down.

They almost didn't make it to the restaurant that night. She almost gave in to the lust burning in her belly, almost drove them home so she could press her girlfriend's pale, hard body up against the wall of her foyer, push the dress up and over Gail's hips, and take, just take what she wanted.

She knows for a fact that Gail would't have had any complaints.

But the wait was worth it, because later that evening, head fuzzy from the bottle of champagne they'd shared, she'd done just that. Taken Gail in the hallway. And then, once she'd caught her breath and Gail had stopped trembling, led them both off to the bedroom. She'd laid her girl back onto the bed, ever so gently. Laid Gail down and then slipped the dress the rest of the way off, exposing those beautiful breasts, the flat expanse of Gail's stomach. And then she'd worshiped at the blonde's body again, as reverently as if she were a goddess, and Holly an acolyte at her temple.

Tonight, tonight all those memories are making it hard to think.

Seeing Gail again, in that dress, is making it hard to breathe.

She's not supposed to look at the blonde like this anymore, she'd had the chance to go back, to start again, and she'd turned it down, afraid of just how deeply she could fall.

She's not supposed to look but she can't look away.

Because she sees the woman she loves in that dress and remembers.

More than remembers, she knows.

She knows how it would feel to run her hands along the fabric. Knows that if she were to slip her hand under the hem and up, up to cup the blonde's ass, there would be nothing between her flesh and Gail's.

She knows how Gail's nipples would look as she lifted the dress up and over her shoulders, pert and perky and just too sweet not to dip her head down for a taste. Knows that if she were to tangle the dress in Gail's hands and command her to stay still, to let Holly drink her fill, like a dying man at a well, the blonde would look down at her with such a smile, and listen, and stay.

She'd stay, and Holly would never let her go again.

So lost is Holly in this fantasy that she doesn't notice Gail drifting closer and closer. Doesn't notice until suddenly Gail's voice is in her ear, her breath hot against her neck.

"Well, hello, doctor," the officer said, taking a sip from one of the flutes of champagne in her hands.

Holly swallowed. "Gail," she said with a slight stutter, "I didn't know you'd be here tonight."

The blonde handed her the other glass of champagne with a smirk.

"Hmmm," she said in reply, "I knew you would."


	13. Chapter 13

_Prompt: _Sphallolalia - Flirtatious talk that leads no where (Gail and Officer Luck)

* * *

Gail stepped up to the bar and ordered two beers and two shots of tequila. She busied herself looking through the papers shoved in the pockets of her wallet while she waited for the bartender to get around to her drinks.

She was busy trying to figure out why she still had a receipt for paint when she felt a hip bump suggestively into her own.

"Hey, I just ordered for us," she said looking up, expecting to see Holly next to her.

Instead, it was Officer Luck.

Goddamn Officer Luck from the 27th.

"What do you want," Gail asked in a guarded tone.

Of course the bartender had the worst timing in the world, setting the drinks down right as Luck hopped up on the stool next to the bar.

"Well, let's start with one of these," Luck said as she took the shot of tequila and threw it back, "and then see where it goes."

Gail just looked at her, temporarily frozen in shock.

"Hey, I don't know where you get off, Luck, but—"

The other woman sidled up closer, close enough that Gail could smell the beer she must have been drinking earlier. Luck was drunk, and worse than that, she was a handsy drunk. Gail tried to shrug off the hand that had slipped under her leather jacket to grasp at her hip, but the crowd around the bar made doing so difficult.

"I'll get off wherever you want, Peck," Luck said in Gail's ear.

Gail shuddered in revulsion.

Unfortunately, the drunk woman took it as permission to continue.

"Luck," Gail said sternly, "you're drunk. You're drunk and you're seriously crossing some boundaries. And you drank my tequila. So if you don't want to get yourself—"

The other officer cut her off by pressing her lips to Gail's mouth. Or trying to, really. She missed her mark and ended up kissing Gail's chin.

"Seriously, stop it," Gail said again, giving the woman one last chance to pull herself together.

Luck pulled back just a bit, hand still under Gail's jacket.

"What, you're too good for me, is that it, Peck? Family too high in the pecking order to date some nobody beat cop like me?"

"No, Luck. I'm just, I'm meeting someone—I'm seeing someone, okay? It has nothing to do with you."

Gail could see the hurt in the other woman's eyes, and it gentled her, just the slightest. So she didn't tell Luck that she only had eyes for Holly, was only interested in Holly. She and Holly had only been back together for a little while, but Gail was certain that the doctor was it for her. Forever.

Luck, for her part, took a step back and pulled her hand away. "Wes said you guys broke up, said he heard it from Chloe," she said.

"That was just temporary," Gail heard as Holly came up behind her and kissed her on the cheek. "Hey, honey," the doctor said as she threw an arm around Gail's shoulders, "is one of those for me?"

She reached over for one of the beers and took a sip before introducing herself to Luck.

"Look," the other officer said, "I'm sorry. I just—"

But Gail interrupted her. "Seriously. Let's just forget it ever happened, okay?"

Luck nodded and started to turn away.

"Hey, I owe you a shot, don't I?"

But Gail shook her head, "Consider it a gift, inter-departmental outreach."

They watched for a moment as the other officer walked away, and then Gail turned around to give her girlfriend a kiss.

"Just how long were you watching," she asked Holly, a smirk on her lips.

"Just long enough to watch you go from murderous to squishy," the doctor responded.

Gail laughed and kissed Holly again before sighing. "She was pretty drunk," she said, "and I should probably go look and make sure she can get home on her own."

"Probably," Holly agreed, having seen how unsteady on her feet the woman had been. "Go on," she said, patting the blonde on the ass, "go look out for your fellow officer. I'll get us some more drinks and find a booth."

Thirty minutes later, after a call to Wes to come pick up his partner, Gail slid into the booth across from Holly.

"Hey," she said with a smile, letting her fingers tangle with Holly's on the table.

Holly smiled back at her, and ran a foot gently up Gail's leg.

"Hey."


	14. Chapter 14

_Prompt_: GAIL AND HOLLY SHARE A COKE WITH EACH OTHER'S NAMES.

* * *

"Hey, babe, come in here for a second."

"Uggghhh," Gail groaned loudly as she dragged herself off the couch and into the kitchen. "Lunchbox, I was almost asleep."

Holly grinned. "Oh, was taking out the garbage that exhausting?"

"Ummm."

"Gail! You swore you'd take the garbage out if I didn't make you come grocery shopping with me."

The blonde had the good sense to look sheepish, at least.

"I was getting around to it," she said. "And it's not like you said I had to do it before you got back. Or today. You should really be more specific in your requests, Hol."

Holly just shook her head, not sure if she was amused or annoyed. Probably a little of both.

"I'll do it later, I swear. Now why did you drag me in here?"

The brunette rolled her eyes. Sure, later.

"Oh, I was emptying the soda into the fridge and look…"

She held out two cans of diet coke to show.

"Okay," Gail drawled, "and?"

Holly turned the cans around so the blonde could see the names written on the side of them.

"They have our names on, isn't that cute," she asked as Gail took them from her.

Her girlfriend looked impressed as she saw that the two cans did, indeed, have their names written in red script on their sides.

"Hmmm," Gail said as Holly turned to put the rest of the cans in the fridge.

"I know," she said, "it's kind of cool, right? We should definitely keep them, you know? They're kind of symbo—"

[_psssssst_]

"Gail!"

"What," the blonde asked after she swallowed, "I was thirsty."


	15. Chapter 15

_Head canon:_ Gail gets more stubborn when she's sick, Holly learns to work around her.

* * *

**Honey, Let Me Sing You a Song**

Gail Peck is a conundrum.

Break a nail, stub a toe, sneeze twice in less than an hour and she'll limp and whine and mope about for hours, proclaiming herself to be a lost cause, quickly fading away, a dead woman walking.

But when Gail gets sick, really sick, she refuses to believe it, refuses to give in to her body's demands. She stomps off to work sneezing and coughing and runny-nosed, and makes everyone within spitting distance miserable.

But as much as Holly hates to see Gail sick or in pain, she does find the sudden switch in personality a little amusing. Adorable, even. After she's managed to confine her girlfriend to the bed or the couch, that is.

She'd seen it coming last night, Gail's current condition. Seen it in the blonde's slightly glassy eyes and pale skin just smudged with the flush of fever. Seen it in the way Gail had drowsily gripped her utensils at dinner, in how quickly she'd curled into Holly on the couch and succumbed to sleep.

She could have said something, she could have pointed out all the signs. Once upon a time she would have.

But she knows better now. Knows that if she had said to Gail "Honey, I think you're coming down with something, you should go to bed early and get some extra sleep," the blonde would have scoffed, would have scoffed and then tried as hard as possible to prove her wrong. Gail would have fought sleep, fought anything that would help stave off whatever infection was slowly building. Just like that one time, early in their relationship, when Gail had denied she was sick for days. It took her initial cold developing into pneumonia and the threat of hospitalization to get finally get Gail to see sense, to follow Holly's advice and the doctor's treatment.

Now, though, Holly knows that the best way to get Gail to do something is to let the other woman think it was her idea in the first place.

So she doesn't say anything.

Instead, she makes chicken soup for dinner, and then she makes two cups of steaming hot tea and grabs a blanket and waits for Gail to join her on the couch. And when Gail does, she hands her girlfriend a mug of tea before pulling the blanket over their bodies and queuing up one of the pawn shop shows that she likes and Gail pretends not to.

Gail "hmmms" quietly at the tv while they drink their tea, and when she's finished, Holly takes the mug from her and puts it on the table next to the couch. Within minutes, the weight of Gail's body leans into her, and then goes slack. Holly just sits for a long while, watching television and gently stroking the satiny blonde hair in her lap.

Eventually, she wakes Gail up, kissing softly at the blonde's forehead, and they head off to bed. By the time Holly has changed and washed up for the night, her girlfriend is fast asleep again in her nest of blankets. She doesn't even stir as Holly curls around her, and tucks her chin in the crook of Gail's shoulder.

In the morning, Gail is slow to wake, but that's not unusual. Holly goes about her normal routine, lets the blonde rise on her own terms. Eventually she hears the shower turn on as she pours them both a cup of coffee.

But slowly the coffee cools, and still Holly can hear the shower running in the background. She's a little worried when she knocks on the bathroom door, a little more when she doesn't get an answer right away.

Inside the bathroom, Gail is huddled on the floor of the tub as the steaming water streams down over her.

"Gail," Holly asks tentatively, moving into the room to turn the water off and reach for one of their big, fluffy bath towels.

When Gail lifts her head, Holly has to fight not to smile. Not because her girlfriend looks so miserable, but because with her wide glassy eyes and her sad, pouty mouth, Gail looks about fourteen, and adorable. Holly just wants to wrap the blonde up in her arms and hold her until her fever cools and her aches go away.

"Hey, baby," she says, dropping to a kneel next to the tub, "what's wrong?"

"I'm sick," Gail answers, biting at the side of her lip.

Holly wraps the towel around her, and then stands up, pulling Gail with her.

"Yeah," she says to the blonde, "I know." The hand she rests on Gail's forehead tells her that the fever is high, but not high enough to need to visit the doctor. Not yet, anyway.

No, what her girl needs is rest, and fluids, and love.

"Come on," Holly whispers as she twists and wraps Gail's long blonde hair up into a towel and then pats her warm body dry, "let's get you into something warm, and then I'll call us both in sick and we'll go back to bed, okay?"

Her girlfriend nods, and it's pathetic and it's beautiful. She's beautiful. Even red-eyed and skin flushed with fever, even with tired limbs and chapped lips, she's beautiful.

"Come on, honey," Holly says once more, "let me take care of you today."

And Gail does.


	16. Chapter 16

**_My Heart is Ready_**

_Prompt: _Leela James, "Fall for You"

* * *

You close your eyes when she kisses you.

You close your eyes.

You close your eyes and dream of all the sweet things you want for her. For you. For the two of you.

You want to marry this woman someday. You want to wear a white dress for her and walk down a long aisle to her altar, every step a symbol of your love, a symbol of you choosing her, choosing this life together. For the rest of your lives, together.

You close your eyes and see her, that little smile that's just yours.

You see the house you'll buy for her, all three bedrooms and two and a half baths. You see the big back yard, and the tire swing that hangs from the tall oak in the corner. The corner nook in the kitchen where you'll sit with your coffee on lazy Saturday mornings and wait for her to wander down. You can see her there, her sleep shorts, her sleepy smile, her bedhead, see how she leans over your shoulder and steals a sip from your cup, kisses your ear, whispers good morning.

You close your eyes and feel the soft, soft caress of her lips. You've never kissed anyone like this before, wholly. Entirely. With every thought in your head and every hope in your heart.

You close your eyes and there she is, standing right before you, six months gone and glowing. There's the spare bedroom you're painting in pale, pale pastels, and the rocking chair, and the softest stuffed kitten, the one you bought the day after she told you. There's your daughter, and then your son, and they have her eyes and the tiniest of toes, and you're so in love you think your heart might never recover from it.

And it's everything you thought you didn't want and it's everything you can't stop dreaming about.

You close your eyes when she kisses you, and watch the years and dreams turn and grow.

You close your eyes and see the whole long future ahead, and her by your side at every step, every junction, every twist and turn. You see the good days and the bad, you see the triumphs and the tragedies, you see it all.

You close your eyes when she kisses you.

You see her, always.


	17. Chapter 17

_Prompt_: Who do you think proposes? Gail or Holly?

**A Heart, A House, A Home**

* * *

In a way, neither.

Technically, Steve says, he did.

They start up again slowly, exactly the opposite of their first time around.

They'd both struggle because they know, you know? They know that they love each other, but the breakup is still so fresh in their memories. And they're not sure, what if the other doesn't feel the same way? What if they screw it up again? What if they lose each other again? So they're scared and it takes them months to move from kind of dating to seriously dating. But it's worth it because they rebuild all that lost trust.

They start sleeping together maybe five or six months after getting back together, because they don't want to rush like before, and the first morning after Gail gets up early and makes coffee, and then she just stands in the doorway of Holly's room, watching Holly sleep as the sun comes up. And she knows then that this is her last chance. Because there will never be anyone after Holly. Ever. Holly's it for her. And so she has to be so careful, because of she screws this up she'll never recover. She doesn't want to be that person she was during their breakup ever again. That raw and hurting and angry and bitter woman that she was before they met.

Holly asks Gail to move in a few months after that, and Gail says no. Not because she doesn't want to, but because they're not ready, and she's mature enough to know the difference. And even though she's disappointed, Holly understands. "Maybe," she tells Gail, "when we're ready we can look for a new place, a place that's ours." And the smile that Gail gives her is so softly beautiful that Holly can't help herself. She lays Gail down on the bed and makes love to her so slowly and delicately that by the end Gail is weeping. Because it's never been like this before, no one's ever loved her like this before, no one's ever made her feel like this before.

It takes Gail six weeks before she feels like they're ready, and one night she shows up at Holly's with take-out Chinese food and a folder full of realtor info and printouts of houses on the market that she thinks the two of them can afford. When Holly brings out her own folder Gail laughs, because three of the houses in their folders are the same. So they agree to look at those ones as soon as they can, and then Gail starts tearing off her clothes and Holly's clothes, and they fuck on the couch with leftover takeout on the coffee table and a rerun of M*A*S*H playing on the tv in the background.

They fight over which house they want after walking through them, and it doesn't matter anyway because there are already offers on the ones they each want. Gail is pissed off and starts walking home, and three blocks away from the house Holly wanted to put an offer in on, she comes across this robin's egg blue house with a "For Sale by Owner" sign up in the front. She thinks about calling Holly, but she's still mad and so she knocks on the door and asks if she can look around when a little old lady opens it.

The house is perfect, the perfect combination of everything they both want. A backyard, an attic, two and a half bathrooms, three bedrooms and an office. A detached garage with a basketball hoop. The old woman tells her about the summer her husband was out of work and built the big raised garden beds in the back for her, and points out the creaky stair (how she always knew when her sons were sneaking in after curfew) and the dent in the wall where one of her boys accidentally put his head through the drywall wrestling with his brother.

It's just perfect. And it's in their budget. So she makes an offer, without consulting Holly. And she knows it's wrong, as much as she knows Holly will love it. She knows it's wrong but she's in love with the house and can see herself and Holly in every corner of every room. It's worth the doghouse, she figures. And it is, but she's in the doghouse for a while. More than a week. She even sleeps on the couch one night. But in the end Holly is just as much in love with the house as she is. And when the woman's sons come to the closing, she laughs when Gail asks who put whose head through the wall.

They settle into the house easily, each making parts of it their own. Holly sets up an office, Gail turns the attic into a video game room, complete with mini fridge for drinks and an old sofa that's perfect for Saturday afternoon naps.

They're in love and life is perfect—they see no reason to change it. Not until they're at the Penny with the gang one night and Steve asks the question. "So when are you two just going to get married," he says, his own ring catching the light overhead. Holly doesn't say anything, she's not sure how to respond. But Gail does. Gail is. She sticks her tongue out at Steve and tells him to stay out of her business.

And then, after she finishes the last of her beer, and sticks her hand in her pocket for her wallet, she looks at Holly. "We really should," she says. "Get married, I mean," she continues when Holly looks confused. And then she pulls her hand out of her pocket and reaches into her wallet and pulls out a ring from the coin pouch there.

"So," she says to her speechless girlfriend, the love of her life, the most wonderful person she's ever met, "what do you think?"


End file.
